Socializing?
by ibnatz16
Summary: AU: Lydia hates the socialite world because it represents everything she believes that is corrupt. Mrs. Martin, not understanding her daughter's feelings, mistakes them for antisocial tendencies; therefore, sending Lydia to a camp for antisocial teenagers. The camp is Hell until Lydia meets a charming camp counselor, Stiles, who may just be what she needs for a better life.


**A/N: **Well, hello everyone. This is my first Teen Wolf fanfic, so it will be a little rusty, but I will try my best to please all of you. Thanks for checking out my story!

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Sometimes, I ask myself why I put up with this world. I hate it and I hate everyone. Sitting at a secluded table in the corner of the dining hall, I observe my dismal world of jealous socialites and prejudiced business people. I often think to myself that if I fall down a rabbit hole in the woods, will I go to wonderland? However, my experiments with this thought end up with a giant bruise on my head and worms filling my mouth. For now, I believe I will be stuck in this world. But it doesn't mean I'm giving up on trying to find another world.

Twiddling my thumbs, I see my mother laughing with her book club members. Fake. Everything is fake. My mother hates them, and they hate her. Why? Because that's the socialite world. Everyone is jealous of everything. Even if they have everything in the world, these upper class people will never be satisfied. And in the end, they end up killing themselves so they can have control of their own deaths. It makes them powerful in their eyes. But to me, they are even weaker than before. That's what happened to Mrs. Whitmore. The Whitmore Corporation is a top company in over 10 states, selling home furnishing. Mr. Whitmore is the richest man in Beacon Hills. And because of that fact, Mrs. Whitmore wanted everything from the top designer clothes to a solid gold coffee machine with her monogram on it. Even with so much money and power, Mrs. Whitmore was never satisfied. Some may say she had a God complex, and I would disagree. She was in my mind, a five year old who stomped her feet whenever she didn't get what she wanted. Mrs. Whitmore didn't get the ultimate control that she wanted in life, and therefore, took her own life to exhibit her final act of the ultimate power, death. She may have gained power through death, but lost respect. And every good leader needs respect to have the ultimate power and control over her subjects.

While I twiddled my thumbs, thinking of the Whitmore family, a brunette with sharp features tapped my bare shoulder with her long nails. I craned my neck around to stare at this person who disrupted my thought process. Brown hair in a French twist, wearing a black Dolce and Gabbana dress with a brown Michael Kors handbag, long red nails, and high black heels. Staring down at me, this stranger gave me a wide smile that had a hint of playfulness but all together sinister vibe.

Breaking the silence, the woman greeted in a smooth elegant voice, "Hello. How are you? My name is Talia Hale."

I, on the other hand, lacking any social skill, replied, "I'm fine." Then, she kept staring at me, as if she wanted me to say something more. I looked at her with a piercing glare, "I'm Lydia Martin."

"Pleasure to meet you. I met your mother, and she wanted me to talk to you. But I had no idea where you sat, but you looked exactly like your mother so I took a wild guess." Her voice had a hint of a Latino accent. Lower California or maybe Upper Mexico. Husband probably came here to promote his company because business down south wasn't doing well.

"And what is that you wished to talk about?"

"Well, your mother has mentioned that you have been having a hard time adjusting in your school." I grimace internally. "So, I wanted to tell you personally that you have been chosen to participate in the Congregatio Camp for socially inept teenagers. Congratulations!" And then, she has the gall to pat my shoulders. It takes all of my self control not to grab the woman's head and bash it against the table repeatedly. After she left my presence, I turned to glare at my mother. She looked over for one second, and I swear I saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes. Good. Be afraid. You just put me in Hell, but when I'm back, your going to face even worse than hellfire.

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**A/N: **So, how was it? Did I capture Lydia Martin's personality or is she kinda OC? Any comments are appreciated on reviews. Until next time!


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